


A Kinda Sorta Christmas Valentine

by writworm42



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, Lesbian AU, Romantic Fluff, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 15:03:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22712680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writworm42/pseuds/writworm42
Summary: Vanessa and Brooke are both kindergarten teachers, and even though Brooke is misunderstood by the rest of the school's staff, Vanessa knows there's more to her. When they get snowed in together, will the opportunity to spend time with her in close quarters give her a chance to find out what she's dying to know?
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Comments: 17
Kudos: 43





	A Kinda Sorta Christmas Valentine

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic on Christmas day and it wound up becoming a much bigger thing than I intended. How fitting I post it on Valentine's day, huh?
> 
> Thank you Holtz for beta-ing <3 <3 <3 Title from Christmas Valentine (lots of versions but the one that inspired this was Ingrid Michaelson & Jason Mraz).

Vanessa misses the summer.

When she looks out the window of her classroom she sees blankets of white, heavy flurries that still coming down, until nothing is particularly distinguishable from anything else on the ground. She can already tell that it’s going tol be freezing outside; never mind the fact that the heat in the school has been broken for pretty much the entire season, or that her winter coat is still wet from a slip and fall chasing some of her kids down at recess. 

Just two more handwriting sheets left for Vanessa to grade (if you could call it grading, really--when you teach kindergarten, if a letter looks even vaguely like the one it’s supposed to, you praise the Lord and call it a day), and she’ll be free. Granted, transit is going to be a disaster in this weather, but even time sandwiched between fifteen strangers is better than freezing in a chalk-dusted, paint-smeared tin can that she’s spent almost eleven hours total in today. 

Vanessa would have been done a lot sooner if she’d just brought the past week’s worth of grading home with her. But Riley has taken to chewing up anything he can get his greedy little paws on lately, and so the safer choice these days is to just leave things at her desk.

It doesn’t really explain why Vanessa’s left it all for a Friday night, but it’s not important. What matters is that she’s on her last sheet, and there’s a bottle of red wine and leftover Chinese in the fridge at home. 

Vanessa files the last sheet away with a triumphant flourish, grinning to herself as she shimmies into her coat and gathers up her things. 

The school halls are a ghost-town. It’s not entirely unexpected - even though it’s only the second week of December, things are beginning to wind down in anticipation of the holiday break. The committee meetings, late-night grading, and clubs have started to slow down significantly. Coupled with the heating situation and, well, there’s really no motivation for staff or students to stay at the school this late. 

Still, there’s something eerie about the silence that greets Vanessa as she walks down the hall, her runners scuffing against the unwaxed floor (thanks to a janitorial strike, there’s a little extra grit catching in her shoes today, but hey, they really  _ do _ get underpaid, so she doesn’t mind). 

Almost like it’s taunting her, driving in the fact that she really is alone here.

Vanessa doesn’t have time to ruminate on it, though. Right now, she has to get home to Riley and her dinner, the Dr. Phil reruns on her PVR to help her forget the strange feeling of being alone at school after dark. 

She reaches the front door and pauses for a moment to bring her hand back into her sleeve, effectively creating a sort of glove for herself before laying her hand on its frigid metal push-bar. She’s about to brace herself to actually touch it when suddenly, a pale hand darts into her field of vision, beating her to the punch.

“Oh.” Vanessa looks up to see a tall blonde woman smiling at her, green eyes not quite meeting her own and shy blush spreading on the woman’s face. “Hey, Vanessa.”

Brooke Lynn Hytes.

Vanessa’s heart skips a beat.

Brooke is the other kindergarten teacher at the school, and while she’s popular with her students and parents, she’s become controversial in the teacher’s lounge, for lack of a better word. At first it had been a sort of confusion, an inability of the other staff to make heads or tails of the woman. Whenever she had been around her kids, she was alive and outgoing, pulling faces and making exaggerated gestures and teaching them with an expert rapport. But in the teacher’s lounge, she had been well, cold wasn’t the way to put it. She was always friendly, and kind, but shy and reserved, almost flat, in a way. Didn’t talk much, except in meetings, when she was so overly-perfect with her notes and posture that it had been intimidating just to look at her. Often shirked social opportunities, giving some kind of excuse that no one could tell the actual truth of. A bit of a mystery. Still, people had put up with her most of the time, because she’s good at her job and doesn’t cause any problems.

Until this year.

_ Scrooge Lynn Hytes _ . The nickname rings in Vanessa’s ears as she thinks back to last week, all the talk about Christmas crafts and the big holiday concert. Brooke had simply shrugged and said that her class wouldn’t be participating in the concert, and at the current moment, not a single paper Santa or even a crepe-paper menorah hung in her doorway. No one really asked her why she was abstaining - still, the fact that she didn’t spontaneously offer an explanation seemed to tick people off, and so the other teachers had become as cold to her as they often perceived her to be towards them. 

_ She thinks she’s above it. _

_ She teaches kindergarten but won’t let any kids have fun. _

_ Why is she working with kids if she can’t even let them make some letters to Santa? I gave her a template for one and she refused.  _

_ Ridiculous. _

It’s easy enough to believe, if one listens to the rumours often enough and don’t know Brooke much more than the talk they’ve heard about her.

Only the thing is, Vanessa has trouble accepting it. 

Since they teach the same grade, Vanessa often works with Brooke closer than other teachers. They spend time during lunches and after school planning lessons, check in with each other, and make sure their curriculums and approaches are in sync. Learning from each other and helping each other out. And in all of that, Vanessa can tell that she and Brooke actually have a lot in common. Like how much they love their kids, and how they love seeing the bright colours and patterns on every backpack, sweater, and running shoe that the older kids slowly stop sporting as they move towards grade five. How they were both dance majors in college, then went back to school to study teaching. How they both follow pageants, and how neither of them can stop their heads from bobbing or lips from moving softly when Rihanna is playing in the staff lounge. How they both love to teach through crafts, songs, and movement more than any other kinds of activities, and how they both like to include equity and leadership in their curriculums.

And then there are the things that make them a little different, the things that make Brooke completely unique and utterly unforgettable. Like how her voice rises about five octaves when she’s excited, or how she decorates every corner of her classroom with cat posters that are almost always new every year. How she has a dry, sarcastic sense of humour, and makes jokes that could easily be taken seriously, if you aren’t looking at her face to check for the wry smile and expectant eyes she always flashes at her audience while waiting for them to laugh. How she drinks black coffee like it’s water, and will tell kids to spit out their gum while actively chewing three pieces to mask the smell of espresso and cigarettes on her breath.

How she’s funny, and kind, and genuine, even if she can be quiet and neurotic and pragmatic to a fault.

Vanessa knows that there’s more to Brooke than the other teachers allow themselves to believe. And maybe it’s that mystery, or maybe it’s all the things she  _ does _ know about Brooke, but either way, Vanessa can’t stop thinking about her. How pretty she is. How smart she is. How she wishes she had reached the door just a bit faster, so that there might have been even the smallest chance that their hands would meet. 

“Hey, Miss Brooke.” Vanessa settles for a little smile and a light tone of voice instead, and even though it breaks her heart to see how Brooke lights up at the kindness, it also warms her to see the other woman smile. 

“You’re here late.” Brooke blushes as she says it, almost as if she’s afraid it’ll be rude, and Vanessa suppresses a smile.  _ Cutie.  _

“I left some grading until the last minute.” She shrugs. “How come you’re here this late, you a slacker too?”

To Vanessa’s relief, Brooke laughs, and not a nervous or forced laugh, either—it’s loud and genuine, one she doesn’t hide behind her hand or try to keep quiet. 

“I was decorating.” Brooke shakes her head, still chuckling a little bit. But her smile fades when she looks back at Vanessa, and Vanessa suddenly realizes that she must look as surprised as she feels at the words. 

“God, you don’t actually listen to Barb and those rumours, do you?” Brooke rolls her eyes, and it breaks Vanessa’s heart to see how there’s a flash of hurt on her face, a sudden hardness to her voice. “I’m working on shit with my class, it’s just winter-themed, not holiday. Pisses Barb and her library posse off, and suddenly I’m the pariah of Charles Elementary.”

“Oh.” Vanessa’s heart sinks, a feeling of guilt and regret clawing at her chest, tightening her throat. “I didn’t—Shit, I’m sorry, Brooke, I didn’t know. And I shoulda asked.” 

The apology seems to reassure Brooke, or at the very least placate her, because a little bit of light returns to her eyes, and she finally meets Vanessa’s gaze. 

“It’s alright, Ness.” Vanessa’s heart practically leaps at the nickname, her previous faux pas left behind by her mind as  _ Ness  _ echoes through it. It’s a nickname only Brooke ever uses, one that Vanessa likes to think carries warmth and affection in its one syllable. If anyone else has a nickname for Vanessa, it’s Vanjie or Vanj, a throwback to her days teaching in the inner-city. But no one calls her Ness except Brooke. And Brooke has no nicknames for anyone except Vanessa. 

“Say, it’s really coming down out there--you want a ride home?” Brooke stares through the thick sheets of snow falling outside, squinting as she scans the front entrance and parking lot. 

Brooke’s right - even in the maybe twenty minutes that have passed since Vanessa last looked out the window, the snow has intensified an alarming amount. Now, it’s coming down so hard that Vanessa practically can’t see through it, the flurries spinning fast in what she guesses must be some pretty bad winds. The ground, from what she can see, is glistening with packed snow and ice, stuff that probably comes up to her ankles as far as she can tell. 

“Yeah,” she shudders, “A ride sounds great.” 

It’s probably just her, but Brooke seems to light up at the response a little, seems to have a little extra spring in her step as she leans her weight against the door to force it open. 

Then again, if the way her heart is practically dancing in her chest as she follows Brooke out is an indicator of anything, she might just be projecting. 

“Holy fuck.” They trudge up to Brooke’s car only to find it buried in snow, a thick wall weighing down on its roof and windshields. The wind has clearly swept more snow onto Brooke’s car than just what’s falling, and even underneath it, there’s a sheet of wet, windswept snow that covers the ground.

“I can help you brush it all off, if you want.” Vanessa offers, and she swears the rosy blush that appears on Brooke’s cheeks is from more just than the cold. 

“No, that’s okay.” Brooke shakes her head. “I have a brush in the car-- _ Fuck. _ ” 

“What?” Vanessa shuffles as fast as she can without slipping over to where Brooke is struggling with her door handle, grunting with frustration and and effort as she pulls with increasing strength. But it’s useless - Vanessa can see even standing just beside Brooke that the door handle is frozen over in its place, unmoving. 

“Maybe if I just stay with my hand on it it’ll warm up…” Brooke starts, and that’s when Vanessa notices Brooke’s hands. 

It’s not the first time Vanessa’s been fixated by Brooke’s hands. It’s not creepy--at least, she tells herself it’s not, because she doesn’t spend time thinking about what she wants them to do, she doesn’t, not that much, anyway. It’s more of a fascination, yet another thing about Brooke that Vanessa finds she can’t get out of her head. How graceful they are, and poised, how they work so efficiently and with such fine dexterity, never shaking or tripping up. How the skin seems so smooth on them, save for the veins that pop up and trace ridges and rivers over her tendons, strong and twisted and just a little blue through her pale complexion. How they fly up to comb through her hair when she’s nervous or thinking hard, how they clap and ball into excited fists when she laughs especially hard. 

Now, though, all Vanessa can notice is how red and raw they seem. Because despite the terrible weather, despite how dry and frigid the air is and how searingly cold the metal car door handle must be, Brooke’s hands are completely bare.

“Oh my God, Brooke, don’t--C’mere, okay?” Vanessa doesn’t think twice before surging forward to grab Brooke’s hands in her own, rubbing the frozen fingers between her glove-clad hands and bringing them close to her mouth to blow on them a little. 

Close enough to kiss, and fitting well enough into her palms to keep holding onto them forever.

Oh, God.

“I’m sorry, I--” A wave of horror washes through Vanessa as she realizes the implications of what she’s done, how intimate the action actually is, and she tries to retract her hands, but Brooke stops her, grabbing onto her hands and pulling them close again despite the nervous way she blushes and bites her lip.

“It’s okay.” Brooke smiles just a little, and Vanessa’s heart speeds up even as her anxiety subsides. “Thank you.”

They stay like that for a moment. Silent, their eyes flitting between each other and elsewhere, only catching each other’s gazes for a moment before breaking it. And maybe it’s just Vanessa, but the air seems to change for a moment, becoming warmer, thicker. Like something is growing in it, words waiting to be said and actions ready to be taken, if only one of them would move first. 

Brooke is the first to break the suspense, shifting on her feet and dropping Vanessa’s hands far too soon. 

“Let’s head back inside.” Brooke suggests. “I’ll call a tow truck and we can warm up a bit while we wait.” 

It’s strange--as frigid as it is outside, and as much as the snow pelts them as they trudge back to the school, Vanessa can’t help but feel a little warmer as they go.

\--

“They said it’ll be about two hours because of the weather.” Brooke emerges from the principal’s office about five minutes later, hands finally back to their normal hue as she slides her cell back into her coat pocket. “Apparently there’s lots of accidents right now, and that’s before they even start trying to get to us.” 

Vanessa shivers thinking about all the people out on the road who haven’t been so lucky as to have their car physically stop them from trying to get anywhere. People who might have careened out of control, hit other people, skid right off the road and wound up in a ditch, trapped upside down and stuck waiting for help. Buses at a stand-still for fear of losing control, and routes cancelled because a busload of people being injured or worse just isn’t worth getting home in time for your TV program. 

Suddenly, being stuck at the school doesn’t seem so bad, even if the heat is broken, the hallways are far too quiet for comfort, and there’s nothing much to do. 

“Vanessa?” She snaps back to reality when she hears Brooke’s voice again, edged with a bit of concern. 

“Huh?”

“I said, do you want to wait in my classroom? I have a space heater, I brought it from home last week ‘cause my kids were cold.” 

Vanessa doesn’t answer, only charges down the hall in the direction of Brooke’s room, Brooke’s laughter echoing down the hall as she follows close behind. 

Vanessa’s enthusiasm is only increased tenfold when she reaches the classroom and moves aside for Brooke to unlock the door. There’s an illustration of children skiing plastered over the door’s window, and when the door finally swings open, Vanessa is knocked off her feet by the sight of the room inside. 

Brooke’s classroom is nothing short of a winter wonderland. It’s clear that the kids have been working hard, probably since even before December, and every decoration, every craft, seems to have a theme. In lieu of the construction-paper alphabet that usually lines Brooke’s walls, there’s a glittery string of winter-themed words,  _ Achoo, Brrrr, Cold,  _ and  _ December  _ tracing a path leading from the front of the class all the way to the door. The kids have drawn and their own mitten-shaped nameplates, leaving a rainbow of hands on every table. The windows are covered in paper snowmen and cotton-ball hills. And at the very front, attached to the chalkboard, is a poster of numbers up to 20, only instead of apples or stars, there’s clumsily-cut snowflakes that sparkle with silver glitter. 

“Brooke, this is…” Vanessa trails off, unable to quite find the right word to describe it.  _ Beautiful _ , maybe, or  _ amazing. Wonderful. Jaw-dropping. Incredible. _

“Holy shit.” Her words land there instead, but from the way Brooke beams at the praise, it seems that they’ve more than conveyed how Vanessa feels.

“You really like it?” Brooke brushes a piece of hair back behind her ear, blushing, and Vanessa’s heart almost breaks at how the blonde’s voice wavers, sounds so hopeful and yet still unconvinced.

She takes a deep breath, then takes a chance. 

“I love it.” Vanessa grabs Brooke’s hand, still cold and red, squeezes it gently, barely holds back from bringing it to her lips. 

That’s not what this is about. No matter how badly Vanessa wants it to be. 

“Thank you.” Brooke breathes, and for a moment, Vanessa wonders if the look in Brooke’s eyes, the sparkle and warmth that it sends over to Vanessa, means what she thinks it does.  _ Hopes  _ it does.

But at the last minute, her fear comes crashing back in, and so she looks away, blushes, drops Brooke’s hand and takes a step back before she notices anything is up.

“So, um…” Vanessa scrambles for something else to say, something to fill the silence, but nothing comes to mind.

Well, something does, but she regrets it the minute she blurts it out.

“How come you won’t let your kids participate in the school concert?”

This time, it’s Brooke who takes a step back, and when Vanessa feels her face grow hot, it’s with a whole different kind of embarrassment, one that makes her want to disappear. Brooke doesn’t look hurt, per se, or even upset—just disappointed, somehow. 

_ Fuck _ . Perfect, absolutely perfect. Vanessa had created a perfect moment with a beautiful woman, and now she’d ruined it. 

“Brooke—“

“No, it’s okay.” Brooke sighs. “That’s just—it wasn’t what I thought you’d say, is all.” 

It takes a few moments for the words to sink in, for their implication to come together in Vanessa’s mind. But by the time they do, it’s too late for Vanessa to dwell on them, to ask what Brooke thought she would say, if she was right about it.

“I didn’t stop them,” Brooke shakes her head. “They chose not to. Those two girls who are Jehovah’s wouldn’t have been allowed to participate, and when they told their friends, the whole class agreed and told me quite firmly that they didn’t want to do the concert if Jane and Annie couldn't.” 

“Oh.” 

Vanessa’s an idiot, an absolute idiot. She should have known that Brooke would give her class a choice like that, respect their decision and accept their reasoning. She should have known that Brooke’s kids would propose doing something like skipping a concert to show solidarity with friends, because that’s the kind of kindness and acceptance that Brooke teaches her kids. She should have known that this is all something Brooke would not only allow, but encourage, because she herself would do the same. 

“You’ve done a great job with your kids, you know that?” Brooke blushes at Vanessa’s compliment, a shy, excited smile growing on her face, and Vanessa can’t help but smile too. “Seriously—I’m… I’m sorry for believing the rumours, Brooke. You’re amazing, and you care more than any teacher I know.”

She looks up at Brooke, hoping to see the hurt dissolved from her face, but instead, when the blonde looks back at her, she’s biting her lip, chewing back that soft, brilliant smile Vanessa would give anything to see again. 

“Can I show you the craft I’m gonna give my kids tomorrow?”

Vanessa’s heart speeds up, and she nods. It’s not just that Brooke is creative and a good teacher, and so Vanessa knows it’ll be a good craft. It’s that somehow, seeing something Brooke is still planning, something that makes her eyes light up despite the hesitation on her face, feels special. Like  _ Vanessa  _ is special. Like she’s important enough, safe enough,  _ liked  _ enough by Brooke for the blonde to open up to her.

It’s not easy for Brooke to do that, Vanessa knows, so the fact that she gets to be someone Brooke lets her down around is an opportunity she’s incredibly grateful for. 

“I’d love to.”

Brooke lets out one of her famous happy-claps, and Vanessa feels like her heart might explode--but before it can, Brooke is leading her over to her desk, rooting through one of the doors before slapping sheets of handwriting paper down on its surface. 

“Letters to loved ones.” Brooke announces proudly. “I’ve been telling my kids, winter is a time to do good deeds, ‘cause letting people know you love them warms both you and them up from the inside out.” 

Vanessa isn’t sure why she does what she does next. Maybe it’s the lighting in the room, the way it glows a soft orange while still warming up, still not taking on its full fluorescent glow. Maybe it’s the snow outside, stirring some kind of romanticism within her that makes her want to get close. Or maybe it’s Brooke’s words and the meaning her voice carries when she says them, the implication they might hold. 

Maybe it’s just the way Brooke’s eyes stare back at her, green and bright and shining with passion, admiration, and some kind of softness that holds a potential Vanessa is dying to explore.

All Vanessa knows is that in one breath, one moment, one flash of impulse and adrenaline, she makes her move. 

“Want to write one for ourselves?” Vanessa asks, the question coming out so quickly she’s not even sure Brooke hears it. “Or, like, for someone else, I mean, but like, we write it?” 

It might be just Vanessa, but there seems to be a gleam of understanding that lights up in Brooke’s eyes, and she nods shyly, blushing a little as her eyes glide to the floor. 

“I’ll get out some pens.”

Vanessa writes in red and Brooke in black, both huddled on the floor in front of the space heater so close that their shoulders are practically touching. It makes Vanessa’s already-difficult task harder, but maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe if Brooke looks over her shoulder, sees what she’s writing, Vanessa won’t talk herself out of writing what’s really in her head.

_ Dear Brooke, _

_ From the first time I met you, I knew we’d get along. And the more I got to know you, the more special you became to me. Your creativity, humour, and intelligence have always impressed me, but it’s your kindness, empathy, and quiet determination are what truly dazzle me. You love your kids so much you’ll bear any hurt on their behalf, and you love your job with a passion I wish more of the staff still had. _

_ I can’t take my eyes off you, because your spirit burns so bright there’s nothing I’d rather watch. _

_ I  _

Vanessa stops, her breath catching in her throat.

She can’t do it. No matter how much she wants to, she can’t say the words that her heart wants to scream. Because it’s not right, not fair to put Brooke in that position, and because if Brooke doesn’t return Vanessa’s feelings, then she doesn’t know if she can survive the heartbreak.

Vanessa is just about to cross out her last sentence when Brooke interrupts her, triumphantly announcing that she’s done before folding the paper in half and handing it over to Vanessa.

“Oh.” Vanessa feels a sinking in her chest, half hope and half preparing herself for the worst. There’s no way Brooke could return her feelings. No way she could write anything close to what Vanessa has. It’s not been enough time; if Brooke was going to write that she loved Vanessa, she would have taken more time.

Wouldn’t she?

“Um, you don’t have to read it now, if you don’t want to.” Brooke’s courage fades as the moments pass, Vanessa still unsure of what to say, what to do. “You read it later, or just throw it out, if you want…”

Vanessa whips open the letter without another moment’s hesitation.

_ Vanessa, _

_ I’m not great at opening up, you know that. But you make me want to change that. You make me want to yell and laugh and clap and get excited. You make me want to be with you all the time, just so I can see you smile and smile back at you. _

_ You might not feel the same way, in which case I’m going to be embarrassed and probably not going to be able to look you in the eye for a while. In that case, I hope you’re as patient with me as you always are. _

_ Point is, I can’t say I love you yet, because even though I think I do, we aren’t together, so I don’t know for sure. _

_ But I want to say it. Want to find out if I do for certain. _

_ If you want to find out too, let me know? _

_ XOXO, _

_ Brooke  _

“I’m--I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

But Brooke’s stammering is cut off at the pass, because fuck it, why write anything in a letter when Brooke is right there, eyes hopeful and lip worried raw from biting? Why wait, when Brooke is still wearing her coat and Vanessa’s heart is pounding and there’s a perfect moment right in front of her?

She grabs Brooke by the lapels of her coat before she can stop herself, and pulls the blonde in for a kiss.

Brooke tastes like mint and cigarettes, her lips soft but commanding and body melting into Vanessa’s every touch, and in that moment, the room feels incredibly warm.

\--

“They’re here!” Brooke hangs up her phone excitedly, announcing the news like it’s the best she’s heard all day. And it is, in a way--the tow truck has arrived, and they’re going to take Vanessa and Brooke home. At the same time, though, Vanessa can’t help but feel a sinking disappointment in her chest.

The tow truck has arrived to take Brooke and her home, which means that their time together is coming to a close.

The two of them had spent the remainder of the two hours together giggling and kissing and talking, the air between them lighter and filled with almost schoolgirl-like nerves and excitement. In-between embraces, they had laid in front of the heater and talked about everything under the sun, the ice between them fully broken at last as they chatted about shows they were watching, music they listened to, funny things their pets had done recently. By the time Brooke had received the tow truck company’s call, they had agreed that Vanessa had to come meet Brooke’s cats, and that Brooke would definitely need to play with Vanessa’s dog in turn.

It’s a promise that still makes Vanessa’s heart soar, one she can’t wait to realize. 

“You’re not excited to get out of here?” Brooke frowns as she tosses Vanessa her coat, no doubt noting the disappointment and hesitation that Vanessa is sure she’s showing on her face. 

“No, I am, it’s just--” 

But before Vanessa can finish her sentence, Brooke has crossed the room again to embrace her, pull her close and tip her chin up to plant a comforting kiss on her lips.

“Let me take you out this weekend, yeah?” Brooke soothes, but her face is genuine, if not a little nervous, as if Brooke is actually doubtful that Vanessa wouldn’t jump at the chance to go on a date with her. “We can keep this going, keep getting to know each other. Without being, you know, snowed in at work.” She winks, and Vanessa giggles, nodding. 

“Now, come on, Ness.” Brooke grins as they separate, sneaking in one last kiss before they do. “Our chariot awaits.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed. Happy Valentine's! <3


End file.
